Shades of Cool
by misscomawhite
Summary: Dylan Massett is a reckless drug lord who cares about nothing but sex and booze. But when he meets a cute girl with only a couple years left to live, he begins to reconsider his life choices.
1. Chapter 1

Shades of Cool

 _My baby lives in shades of blue_

 _Blue eyes and jazz and attitude_

 _He lives in California too_

 _He drives a Chevy Malibu_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Bates Motel or any of the character.**

Chapter One

I stopped by the florist to pick up some flowers, it was almost Spring and I was so excited to fill up my room with different types of flowers and plants. It made me feel happy to wake up to all different colors and nature surrounding me. I had just recently moved, my dad traveled a lot. I had a disease called cystic fibrosis, which made it pretty much impossible for me to stay by myself. So I moved into a friend's house with him and his mother. They were nice people, I met them because they owned a hotel and I started working there behind the desk. After my dad found out that he would be traveling constantly, they found out and offered a place for me to stay while they were gone. I had such gratitude towards them, they were a little bizarre, but they cared and I was lucky to have such kind people in my life. I know because of my disease that I wouldn't live a full life, but I knew I had quite a few years left and I wanted to spend them happy with people I loved.

I purchased a couple bouquet of flowers to put in vases and put around my room at the Bates's house. I paid for them, then walked out the door, as I stepped out, I wheeled my oxygen tank behind me, as I stepped onto the sidewalk this tall rugged looking guy with dirty blonde hair cut in front of me, causing me to trip. He glanced back, we made eye contact and he kept walking. I sighed a little, people were so freaking rude sometimes. I followed behind him, heading toward the bus stop that was about a block away. I didn't pay much attention to the rude stranger, I just focused on heading to the bus stop, daydreaming about life and what my weekend plans were going to consist of.

Suddenly as I was walking, I heard a gun shot go off too close by. I jumped, then before I knew it, someone grabbed me and pulled me down behind a car. I gasped, hearing the shot hit the building directly behind me, not knowing what was going I until I looked up. Beside me was the rude stranger, who had pulled me down, he was peering out from the side of the car, and he pulled out a gun from his waist, I bit my lip, terrified and so very confused. He stood up and pointed his gun over the car, I stayed down, covering my ears. I heard him fire a shot, then a shot fired back, I saw him duck down from the corner of my eye. Then I heard a car screech off. I waited a few seconds before uncovering my ears and looking beside me at the stranger. He looked back at me, I opened my mouth but nothing came out, I wanted to thank this stranger for saving my life pretty much, but I couldn't make words come out, he watched me, emotionlessly for a couple seconds then he stood up and quickly walked off. I bit my lip, not sure of what to think, but I seriously wanted to know who this stranger was. Because whoever he was, he was the reason I hadn't been shot and killed. I didn't know what to think, it was all so much to take in.

It'd been weeks since that shooting incident. I obsessed for a few days over finding the guy that saved my life, I wanted to thank him, and buy him lunch or something kind along those lines. But after a week of going back to that same spot, asking around and describing him to people, I was at a loss. Maybe he was from out of town or something, I convinced myself he was and moved on.

I took a sip of my water as I scrolled through the internet of my laptop as I sat behind the desk in the back room of the small motel lobby. Norman Bates sat in the front, looking at his phone. I yawned softly, Norman turned around quickly.

"Are you tired? You can go up to the house and lay down if you need to." He asked, he was always so concerned about my well being. We were best friends, at one point I wanted to be more, but I was too nervous to mention it, and after a while I realized that being friends was probably better in the long run.

I shook my head, "No, no. I'm fine. Thank you though Norman." I smiled, he smiled back and turned back around. His mom and he were so nice to me. They made me feel like a part of their family, I loved it.

Suddenly the door opened, I didn't bother glancing up, I was too busy looking at dresses online. Plus, Norman normally took care of most things dealing with the motel. I was merely there to take his place if he had to go somewhere.

"Hi, how can I help you?" He asked, politely, as he always did.

I heard the guest clear his throat, "I need a room for a couple of weeks." He said, I glanced up and saw him. The guy that had saved my life. My heart stopped and I watched as he and Norman talked, hoping he'd notice me.

Norman replied, "Okay, sure, how many weeks exactly?" He asked.

The guy shrugged, he was very rugged looking, he had on a black t-shirt, and a beat up leather jacket. He didn't look much different from when I saw him a few weeks ago.

He ran his hand through his dirty blonde hair, "I don't know." He shrugged, blankly.

Norman sighed softly, "Well, I need to know an estimation or something, so I know what to charge you." He said.

The guy rolled his eyes, "Here. This should hold me over for a couple weeks." He said as he reached in his wallet and grabbed what looked like a couple hundreds. Norman took it from him and looked at it for a moment. "Okay…you'll be staying in Room 1," He said as he handed him the key, "Do you want me to show you to your room?" Norman asked.

The guy shook his head, "I'm pretty sure I can handle it, thanks." He said, then looked in the back at me and smirked, I couldn't help but blush and smile, then he walked out.

Once the door shut, Norman turned to me, he looked really annoyed.

"What an asshole." Norman said, I chuckled lightly.

"Oh come on, he didn't seem that bad." I said softly, part of me wanted to tell Norman about what happened with the guy, but I didn't. I wanted it to be my secret.

"Emma, he's a prick." Norman said, matter-of-factly. "Also, who the hell carries around hundred dollar bills in their wallet?" He asked, as he crossed his arms.

I shrugged, "Maybe he's got a good job." I suggested, Norman rolled his eyes.

"Just be careful with him around." Norman said, "There's something shady about him and I don't like it." He said, I nodded softly, Norman was always looking out for me. I did appreciate that.

Norman glanced down at his watch, "It's lunchtime. I think I may go into town and get some pizza." He said, as he locked the front drawer. "Do you want to come with? My treat," Norman said, I smiled and shook my head.

"No, but thank you," I said and Norman smiled and nodded, "I'll see you in an hour or so then." He said then walked out the door.

I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror, fixing my hair. I was determined to go talk to this guy and thank him. But when the opportunity was now there, I felt myself get extremely nervous. I didn't like him or anything, I mean he was attractive, but I didn't even know him. I cleared my throat, took a sip of my water then got up, dragging my oxygen tank along with me.

I was going to thank him, he probably wouldn't even care or think anything of it. Besides, what guy would be interested in a girl who drags around an oxygen tank? My point exactly.

 **MORE TO COME. Please review. (:**


	2. Chapter 2

Shades of Cool

 _And when he calls,_

 _he calls for me_

 _And not for you._

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Bates Motel or any of the characters. I just steal them for my crazy stories.**

Chapter One

My heart started to beat quicker the closer I got to the door of the room this mystery guest was staying at. I sighed deeply, taking in whatever breath I could. My lungs filled then I breathed out, almost in a meditative way. It was just something I learned that I needed to do if I felt my heartbeat increase. When I was a lot younger, I had issues with panic attacks. I learned very soon that CF and panic attacks weren't an ideal mix. In fact, it landed me in the emergency room a few times. My breath was a big factor, my heartbeat almost the underlying essence of it all. I hated having to always pace myself and stop just to breath. People ran out of breath, that's normal, but if I did it could be detrimental. I hated that. I hated having to almost live especially safely just to survive. Living with CF was hard, dragging around an oxygen tank was annoying, knowing that I could die if I pushed too hard once was scary but now just became a real freaking nuisance. I envied people with healthy bodies and healthy lungs, I know they took it for granted. I didn't blame them, people should be able to trust their bodies and trust their lungs to keep them alive without having to think about it. But I was always secretly jealous of those who didn't have to worry just about staying alive.

But I suppose we don't really have much of a say in what we're born with and what things hold us back. I pretended to be normal, for my own sanity, but sometimes even I couldn't convince myself.

I raised my very, very shaky pale hand towards the door, I stopped myself. _What was I doing?_ I thought heavily. I didn't even know this guy, for all I knew he could be a murderer who was just in a good mood and decided to save my life the other day for something to do. I doubted that analogy, but it did come into my head. I breathed heavily again, my heart beat beginning to slow to normal. I started to turn away and walk back to the office, dragging my pet along with me. I took a few steps, then stopped myself, shutting my eyes, as if visualizing my next move.

 _No, Emma. You can do this._

My mind encouraged. This guy saved my life, I owed him at the very least a sincere hello. Plus, when he saw me in the office, he smiled, he looked happy to see me again. I was over reacting, I was being too insecure. I could talk to this guy and at least get to know maybe his name.

After battling with myself for a few more seconds, I turned back to the door. I sucked my breath in, ignoring my heart beat speeding up again. _Stupid heart, stupid lungs._

I raised my still shaky hand again, when I made contact with the dark wooden door, I quickly felt uneasy, anxious, the urge to run away came into my head, but I knew my oxygen would slow me down and I'd be caught…looking even stupid then I probably already did.

The door slowly swung open, the room was very poorly lit. I saw his dirty blonde hair first, then his pale skin, followed by his extremely sky blue eyes. My heart skipped a beat, if that were even possible. Probably not, I feel like if anything in my body skipped a beat, I'd be dead on the concrete motel floor right now.

"Who the fuck – ", the blonde haired blue eyed stranger snapped, then paused quickly when his met mine.

My heart raced, but I didn't take the deep breath that I probably should've, because of this on top of my already overwhelming nerves, I felt faint. But I held myself together with all of my might. I didn't want to creep this guy out even more by freaking fainting onto his feet. _How awful would that be_. I shuddered at the thought.

The stranger took a slight breath, "It's you." He muttered, his lips forming a slight smirk…at least I think it was a smirk. "Oxygen girl," He finished, as he looked me up and down. I fought the urge to blush.

 _Oxygen girl._ I've been called worse, I suppose.

I noticed him holding something in his hand, I tried not to make my curiosity obvious, but I really wanted to know what it was. I fought the urge to look down, but then he lifted it up and I realized what it was.

He took a swig from the already half empty Jack Daniels bottle. I felt strange, was he drunk? This conversation couldn't go well if only one of us was sober…then again, I didn't know him. Maybe he was a kind drunk, heck, I didn't even know what he was like sober.

He began to look a bit annoyed and I realized then that I had just been standing there looking at him.

I took some air into my sick lungs, "Yeah…hello." I said, trying to smile an incredibly nervous smile. "I just wanted to come by and say hello." I said, looking away.

I turned back to, my face facing his. He didn't look convinced. He raised an eyebrow to further prove his confusion. I sighed, praying that I didn't sound even creepier with what I said next.

"…I also wanted to formally thank you." I mumbled, trying to fight my eyes to not look away. "For the other day, if you hadn't been there I could be in the ICU right now." I said softly, smiling a nervous yet thankful smile.

He took another swig of the whiskey, his face remained blank and emotionally, almost careless.

"Or worse," He finally said, his eyes looking almost soulless, I wondered why he looked so dead inside.

But I didn't read too much into it.

I nodded, reluctantly. " _Or worse."_ I agreed, unsure of where this conversation was going. I imaged it going so much differently.

It seemed as though he was waiting for me to say something else, but I didn't know what to say…so I said nothing.

He shrugged slightly, "Well, don't mention it." He muttered.

I smiled at his bashfulness, until I realized he wasn't smiling back and he wasn't being bashful whatsoever.

"Especially to the cops, I don't need the bullshit." He said, rolling his eyes, he looked as if I had offended or annoyed him. Or both of the two. He had it all wrong.

"I won't," I shook my head, assuring him he had the wrong idea about my intentions. "I-I just wanted to formally say thank - " The door slammed.

He slammed the door. _In my face._

I felt such anger and sadness all at once. How dare he be so rude, how dare he be such an asshole! I was just trying to be nice and thank him. _Why did he have to make me feel so terrible? Who the hell did he think he was to do that?_

I wanted to cry. I had built up my confidence to even knock on his stupid door. And I felt so shattered and let down…even more than anything, insecure. My insecurity took over my emotions and I felt tears run down my cheeks, I quickly grabbed my oxygen tank and dragged it with me into the office. I slammed the office door, out of rage but also in hopes he'd hear it and feel bad. But who was I kidding? I could've gotten shot and died in front of him and he wouldn't even notice or worse, care.

I wiped my tears with my hands, trying to stop crying, but I was so frustrated. I wasn't crying over his rudeness, I was crying because I was such an idiot to think there is always good in people. Especially people who drink at 12 in the afternoon, have sketchy hundred dollar bills on them and hide their emotions…or whatever emotions they have.

I dragged myself back to my desk behind the main one. I was such an idiot. He was an asshole who didn't want anything to do with me. Probably because of my condition…

A condition that I was born with!

A condition I had no control over!

A condition that ruined my life every day and on top of that caused people to not even want to associate with me!

A condition that was killing me slowly!

Before I knew it, I was sitting on the floor behind my office, sobbing. But now I realized I wasn't sobbing because of the rude stranger, though he was the reason for my sadness at first. I was crying over my condition, because that's all I could ever do. I was helpless, I felt helpless. This was my life, as oxygen girl. Freaking oxygen girl. Sick and dying…no one would ever find that appealing.

I eyed my stupid oxygen tank. It sat there, upsetting me further. Because of it, I was labeled a freak in people's minds. Because of it, people never wanted to get to know me.

I raised my weak hand and punched the metal tank, automatically regretting it.

My hand ached, I pulled it into my chest, holding it. I could already feel a bruise starting. My frustration instead felt more overwhelming not less…how stupid am I?

" _Shit."_ I muttered, as my hand started to feel worse, not better. I sighed heavily, my tears finally stopped, but my hand kept aching.

I didn't even know the stranger, but I already didn't want to. He had hurt me just by his actions, rejecting me, and what was worse is I'm not even sure why he decided to save me if he was just going to judge me for my aliment.

 _I hated him._ I didn't even know him, I didn't want to. I felt like a moron for ever wanting to. I decided to treat him like a typical customer…except even ruder. _No,_ I probably wouldn't do that. I probably would just keep my distance…either way. He didn't deserve my kindness.

 _His loss._ I thought to myself. Although I couldn't get myself to believe in any way that he was missing out for not knowing me…


End file.
